


Trust Each Other

by Alitneroon



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Flashback, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 18:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alitneroon/pseuds/Alitneroon
Summary: "Here in the dark and the snow, Tormund could almost believe they were north of the wall again, all alone in that vast open expanse, and he remembered another moment. Long before they’d climbed the wall, before the betrayal and the deaths of his friends, he’d trusted Jon Snow. And he knew could trust him now."





	Trust Each Other

 

Tormund watched Jon across the dim light of the campfire, sitting with his own brothers while Tormund sat alone. Jon was the only one to look at him, at least, the only one to acknowledge Tormund’s presence and ask how he was doing on their long journey to Hardhome. Tormund knew that any of the other free folk would think he had gone out of his mind for what he was doing, but none of them knew Jon. Tormund didn’t trust the lord commander of the night’s watch, Tormund trusted _Jon_ – a man he knew, who had been at his side for months with the free folk, even if he had betrayed them in the end.

He remembered listening to Jon after his capture, watching him. At first he’d dismissed all his time with the free folk as acting, just a necessary step in his plan. But then he’d seen that the free folk had left their mark on him, whether Jon liked it or not. From the way he talked about Stannis to his arrow at Mance’s execution, and finally to this plan, Tormund knew. Jon was not a southerner anymore, not truly. The north was in his blood, his bones, and it would never leave.

Still, it had been hard to accept this mission, to trust him so fully. He did not know whether Jon knew himself or not – after all, he had already betrayed Tormund and Ygritte and the free folk once, regardless of how it tore his heart in two to do it. Watching him across the fire now, though, Tormund remembered the good times with him. There had been a time where he might have even called Jon a friend.

Jon looked up at him then, and Tormund felt his heart beat faster, startled. His eyes were soft, but piercing all the same, regarding Tormund without an ounce of fear or judgement. Here in the dark and the snow, Tormund could almost believe they were north of the wall again, all alone in that vast open expanse, and he remembered another moment. Long before they’d climbed the wall, before the betrayal and the deaths of his friends, he’d trusted Jon Snow. And he knew could trust him now.

 

***

 

Crunching snow and snapping twigs signaled Jon’s return. He was still learning to walk lightly – he was quieter than the crows, but to Tormund’s ear he still thundered through the woods. The deer would hear him too, but Tormund could always finish the hunt on his own if need be.

Jon walked into the circle of firelight with an armful of branches. He dropped them down and sat opposite Tormund, the fire between them. Jon was still uncomfortable with the free folk, no matter his intent to join them. Tormund didn’t trust him, not truly, but as long as he was fighting beside them they would let him stay at least. They’d needed to hunt, and Tormund had Jon join him so he could learn to do things their way, learn to read the land and be at home in the wild. Their large group was too loud, scaring off the prey long before they could be spotted, and traveling through the open. Tormund had taken Jon off a day’s walk into the woods, and tomorrow they would begin their hunt in earnest.

Despite his misgivings, Tormund liked this boy. He was brave, that much was clear, and clever. He sulked at Tormund for the rest of the night while they ate, until they climbed into their tent, but he wasn’t afraid.

Tormund lay down beneath the furs, waiting for Jon to get settled. He tossed and turned. “Miss her?” Tormund finally said, having had enough.

Jon refused to answer at first, but as the silence stretched out he gave up. “Yes.”

“We’ll be back to her soon enough. Cold? I’m sure she does a good job keeping you warm,” Tormund teased.

“Only a little,” Jon answered.

“Come closer, then. Body heat’s the best way of keeping warm at night.” Tormund barely gave a second thought to it – such things were normal among the free folk. There was nothing behind it, only the facts of survival.

Jon went still, and then moved a little further away. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Suit yourself,” Tormund said.

If they woke up the next morning much closer, unconsciously seeking each other out in the night, Tormund didn’t comment on it. He would let Jon keep his dignity, if he wished.

 

***

 

They were walking in the dark the next night, looking for a good campsite, when it happened. Tormund heard it first, the barest footfall behind them, and called softly to Jon ahead to stop. Then came the growl, low and echoing off the rocks around them. Tormund turned around, searching in the darkness. A shadowcat, it must be. He heard Jon nock an arrow and raise his bow behind him.

A long, silent moment passed, and then Tormund was knocked over by the beast flying out of the dark. He fell and curled into himself instinctively, as it growled and scratched at his body. There was a searing pain in his shoulder as one of its claws dug through the furs and into his skin. He yelled out, trying to kick, but couldn’t find purchase.

Suddenly he heard Jon’s bow loose, and the shadowcat screamed and turned away, fleeing into the darkness. Tormund pushed himself up on his elbows and caught his breath, only dimly aware that Jon was shouting his name.

“Are you alright?” He finally heard, as Jon crouched down by his side.

Tormund looked up at him. He felt cold air and warm blood trickling down his back, but it was only pain, to match the bruising in his hip and his ribs where he’d fallen. He nodded. “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”

He pushed through the pain and stood. It took Jon a few moments to follow him. Tormund winced as he walked, his injuries throbbing, but he couldn’t show weakness, not in front of this green boy.

They walked in silence, and found a campsite not long after. Tormund gathered wood and then sat down in defeat, hissing in pain as he tried to build a fire. Jon pushed him gently out of the way. “Let me.”

“You know how?” Tormund asked.

Jon glared back at him. “I’m not useless.”

Tormund watched in silence as Jon built the fire. He was right, he knew how. Of course he did. Tormund reached back to feel the scratch and swore as his fingers touched it. It was bigger than he’d thought, and still oozing blood. He needed to clean it and pack it, but he couldn’t reach it well, it was too far down. “You know anything of medicine, boy?”

Jon paused, then shook his head.

“I suppose I’ll just have to talk you through it. This cut needs to be cleaned.”

Jon nodded. “When I’m done with this.”

Tormund dug in his pack for the water and some cloth. Strangely enough, Jon looked calm, more confident than he’d been before. He had saved Tormund’s life, he realized, and now he was working while Tormund sat and recovered. His movements were steady and sure.

He came and sat beside Tormund. “Where are you hurt?” He asked.

Tormund grunted and pulled off his coat, shivering as cold air hit his skin. He pulled his smallclothes out of the way and pointed, then passed Jon the water. “Rinse it.”

Jon took the edge of his shirt and pulled it away himself, and Tormund flinched as icy cold water ran down his back, clutching his coat to the side of his body away from the fire. Jon stopped.

“More,” Tormund said. “Clean it out.”

“We need to drink,” Jon protested.

“We’ll need more than water if this festers.” Tormund braced himself. “Do it, or I’ll freeze to death.”

Water ran down his back and soaked his clothes. Tormund felt Jon’s fingertips brush the skin around the cut, wiping away the dirt. “It’s still bleeding,” Jon said.

“Aye, that’s what happens when you poke holes in a man. You’ve seen blood before.”

“I’ve never treated wounds before, not really. The maesters always did that for us.”

Tormund passed back a strip of cloth. “Push that into the wound.”

Jon hesitated before taking it. “You’re sure? It’s deep.”

“Then I’m definitely sure.”

“It won’t hurt?” Jon put down the water and rested his fingers with the cloth next to the cut. They weren’t a healer’s hands, to be sure, but they were gentle.

“It’ll hurt less than dying.” Tormund grit his teeth as Jon carefully pressed it into the bottom of the cut. “What’s a maester?” He asked, to keep his mind occupied.

“They're a…” Jon paused to concentrate on what he was doing. “Every castle has one down in the south. They’re healers, they can read and write, they send messages and advise and teach. They were always the ones you went to when you needed wisdom or knowledge.”

“There’s no maesters here.”

“No.” Jon finished his work and smoothed the palm of his hand over Tormund’s wound. It was warm and strong. After a moment he pulled Tormund’s shirt back over his shoulder. “Is that it?”

“I’ll need you to check it tomorrow, but aye, that’s all.” Tormund pulled his coat back on, glad for the warmth, and scooted closer to the fire. “Thank you.”

“I’ll go set up the tent,” Jon said. He stepped out of the light and into the dim woods beyond. Tormund let him go. He was past pretending, and was grateful for Jon’s help.

 

***

 

Jon was still looking up at him every few minutes across the fire. Tormund sat in silence, warming himself and slowly growing drowsy. Suddenly Jon stood and came to sit by Tormund, ignoring the looks from his brothers. He was still a few feet away, and he didn’t speak, but the gesture made Tormund’s heart swell with affection.

He looked over and smiled at Jon, and saw the same smile returned. Jon’s curls fell into his face, the hollows of his cheekbones cast into shadow by the firelight, and Tormund’s breath caught at the sight. Jon had always been pretty, but Tormund hadn’t really seen it until now. He looked away and Tormund forced himself to do the same, not wanting to be caught staring, but he could still see Jon out of the corner of his eye. He kept a close watch on him, and knew, in that moment, that he would always wish to be near him.

**Author's Note:**

> "Have you used your Wilderness First Aid certification skills?"   
> "Yeah..."  
> "For What?"   
> "Writing Fanfic"
> 
> You can find me @tormvnd on tumblr! I basically only blog about jonmund, come yell about it with me anytime.


End file.
